Light me up
by aniay
Summary: I want you to light me up. Kup/Hot Rod. pre-war, sticky, AU kinda


Oh the song "Light you up" by Shawn Mullins made me instantly think Kup/Roddy! It was love at first note. I can actualy hear them singing it. The SexKitten!Roddy is all fault of **eaten_by_bears** and I dedicate this fic and art to her. Fic betaed by **caia_comica** . Written for **tf_rare_pairing** february challenge.

Enjoy.

Kup liked this particular club. There was something in it that he found strangely soothing. Maybe it was the atmosphere saturated with electro-cigarette smoke. Maybe it was the smell of youth, lubricant and transfluid permeating every corner.

Maybe it was the hot fire-armored youngster that made him return every time; the one that always seemed to search out his optics as he danced, and as their gazes locked whisper something especially for him.

The dancer had a body that mechs would die for. The elegant lines of his red helmet and round audio sensors begged to be kissed. The silver, smooth neck shined in the spotlights.

Kup traced his optics over bold orange chest plates that must hold a delicious spark. He licked his lips, watching the yellow winglets on the mech's back as they quivered lightly with every move.

His eyes followed the deliciously lithe protoform, silver plates sliding against each other as the mech flexed against the pole.

The red pelvic plating always made Kup stare the longest. He often zoomed in on the seams, wanting, yearning to dig his fingers into them, unhook the latches and get to what was hidden under.

Graphite-colored legs with provocative feet were a nice and exciting touch to his whole appearance. His every move was fluid as though it was a dancing wildfire.

The mech seemed to revel in his look and dance only for him.

Kup wasn't stupid, he knew that it was just a show, but it was nice to imagine someone still desired him. Everybody was as entranced as he was with the hot-colored mech. The sensual movements and fleeting touches meant also for them. He could feel it as heat emanated from

their frames; every mech at the show wanted a taste of the beautiful dancer.

To his great surprise, one evening, just as he was about to leave the club, a hand on his shoulder stopped him. A gray hand with a red armguard attached to the sinful body he had just been watching on the stage. The close proximity of the object of his greatest desires

made Kup's systems heat up almost instantly.

The red-helmeted mech smirked at Kup's fans starting up. He slid a slim finger down Kup's arm, teasing the inside of his palm.

He nodded in the direction of one of the private rooms and pulled Kup with him. The old mech followed, entranced, a slave to his own desires, a prisoner to the shapely aft moving sensually with the youngster's movements.

As they moved through the door, the dancer spun in place and pushed Kup into one of the comfortable chairs. The fiery mech looked up, and slow sensual music played from the hidden speakers, making Kup shiver.

The dancer fell down on all fours and prowled towards him, every movement deliberate and intended to turn Kup on. When the mech reached the old-timer, with a wicked grin he parted the green legs and, using them as support, pushed himself up. He spun and, twisting his body, ground his aft into Kup's interface panel, the action drawing a gasp from the surprised mech's vocalizer.

All the while music vibrated around them, flowing through Kup's armor like the tingle of high-grade Energon.

Kup gripped the armchair, fighting the urge to touch the dancer's flexing body. The young mech brushed over his chassis, his closeness lighting Kup up and making him burn.

The lean mech bent in half, lifting his aft directly into Kup's vision. The old-timer could smell the lubricant on the dancer; the seams of his codpiece glistened with it. He wanted to lick it, to taste it and drink like expensive high-grade.

As the music quickened, the red thighs parted more and more almost to the splits. The mech turned his body and slid his own hand over his aft. Silver lip-plates parted, violet gaze heated with desire and playfulness.

Kup reset his optics as the mech in front of him leaned backwards, his body arched in a delicious bow, abdominal protoform flexing, and suddenly with a sharp movement he turned around, yet again training bright optics on Kup.

Slowly the exotic mech leaned forward, his hands on the arms of the chair, lip-plates closing in on Kup's own mouth yet never touching, teasing glossa peeking out.

Kup slowed his vents, not wanting to destroy the mood, not wanting to scare the mech away. The red mech smiled knowingly, and as the song started again, he leaned forward, closing the last distance between them, his lips pressing lightly against Kup's.

The moment Kup parted his own lips, the dancer moved forward and sat astride Kup's legs. The green mech tried to fight the urge to pull the youngster closer and grind their hips together.

"I saw you watching me." The voice that left the mech's vocalizer sent a thrill down Kup's back.

"Aren't all the mechs here doing that?" Kup responded, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

"Oh, but you are the only one that comes here to see only me..." The red mech placed his hands on Kup's "And I'm dancing only for you, Kup." The name rolled from his vocalizer so easily, so beautifully.

Kup instantly leaned forward and kissed the mech on his lap hungrily, the other responding with a whimper, glossa teasing Kup's, inviting him to play. The old-timer didn't care how the mech learned his name, as long as he could continue kissing the beautiful mech.

Suddenly the dancer stood up, making the green mech whimper at the loss of his addictive taste. He walked backwards, calling Kup to him before he disappeared into the darkness. Only then did the green mech realize there was another door leading deeper into the club.

He followed the mech into a dark room only to be pulled into a hungry kiss. He growled and pulled the frame flush against himself, his optics switching to night vision. He mapped out the sinful body with his hands stopping at the hips and grinding their codpieces together. The young mech threw his head back and Kup latched onto the slim neck, kissing and nibbling, doing what his desire dictated. His glossa traced the patterns his optics usually made.

The beautiful mech wriggled away from him and walked to the nearest wall. He braced his hands against it and pushed his aft out, spreading his legs wantonly. The lewd movements were followed by the quiet click of an opening codpiece.

Kup's eyes traced the sinful curves down to the shapely aft, his optics zooming in on the open port.

"Kup, please," the fiery mech keened in need.

Kup growled and in two strides leaned over him, his slim body fitting perfectly against him. He licked one audial, tasting the forbidden red armor, making the young mech gasp in pleasure.

"What's your name?" the green mech purred, one hand groping the aft that ground into his codpiece.

"Hot...ah...Hot Rod," the mech responded. He moaned, wriggling his aft, its red plating hot against Kup's hips'.

"Fitting name," Kup whispered, and, still not completely believing this was really happening, clicked his interface open.

"Yes..." The word was barely a whimper, but it made the older mech shiver as he positioned his spike and drove it slowly into the tight port.

Hot Rod keened and Kup groaned as the tight heat enveloped him. His hands roamed over orange plating before getting to the yellow winglets, his fingers ghosting over the metal with teasing caresses.

"Harder," Hot Rod demanded and Kup pressed his fingers against the quivering

appendages, eliciting a helpless cry as the dancer arched into his touch, the tight valve contracting around him.

"You are delicious." Kup pulled his spike out slowly, leaned forward, and, as he sucked the tip of one winglet into his mouth, quickly thrust back in.

The dancer threw his head back and cried out for more. Kup complied, pulling all the way out and thrusting back in again, his glossa still tasting the winglets, his hands roaming greedily over armor and protoform.

The mech tasted like fire. Hot, uncontrollable and wild. Pure energy, more heady than the sweetest Energon. Every sound begging for more, every movement meeting Kup's, every wild cry a delicious caress on Kup's

audios.

"Ah, Kup," the youngster cried, as the mech's hands stopped on his abdominal armor, and then the green fingers dug into red plating, slipping into the seams straight to the protoform.

"Yes... you're delicious, hottie." Kup stopped, then moaned as Hot Rod wriggled his aft and whimpered.

"Please, I want overload, I want to feel you all over me, please..." he begged.

Kup groaned and started moving again, setting a quick pace, Hot Rod writhing under him, their bodies hot and vibrating with energy.

"All over you, you say?" He grinned and, with particularly hard thrust, flashed his energy field, letting it lash against the pretty mech under him.

Hot Rod cried out as energy exploded, setting off the charge, overloading his systems, making his valve spasm around Kup's spike, as the older bot allowed himself to overload.

"Much better than I imagined," Kup managed when his systems came fully online again.

Hot Rod smiled. And kissed Kup sensuously, the kiss laced with something sad. "Wanted to know," he answered the question Kup hadn't asked, and smiled sheepishly.

Kup pulled them up from the floor they had collapsed into and smiled back, suddenly aware that he wouldn't see the mech again.

And he didn't.

Never again did he meet Hot Rod.

Not until the day when he came to assist Ultra Magnus with recruiting mechs for Autobot case.

The mech's name was still Hot Rod. Gone was the dancer-body, gone was any opening in his armor. His frame was now fit for a warrior. But the bold colors and even bolder smile were still there.

"Do you have any recommendations?" Ultra Magnus asked the youngster.

Hot Rod presented a record that spoke about potential, both for good and for trouble.

"I'll vouch for him." Kup watched the now-blue optics staring into his with recognition.

"Thank you, Sir."

Kup was never as unsure about a decision as he was back then, but he wanted to believe in this bot; he wanted to believe that there was more to him than just a dancer gone Autobot. He wanted to believe it was more than a simple crush.

He was too old for crushes, for Primus' sake.

So, when asked, he claimed simply that having Hot Rod there would light up the Autobots' ranks.

Selfishly hoping that the mech would light him up again.


End file.
